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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865521">One for the Books</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasserwraith/pseuds/Nasserwraith'>Nasserwraith</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The White Hart - Dragon Age Series [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bottom Fenris (Dragon Age), Elf/Human Relationship(s), M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Dragon Age II, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Slave Trade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:48:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasserwraith/pseuds/Nasserwraith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the events of "Chiaroscuro," Hawke and Fenris have settled back home at their mansion in Kirkwall and have been living a relatively peaceful life ever since. But now, Fenris has received evidence from Varric that a new Serenic route may be planned for Lowtown and there is already evidence that slave traders are moving in. Needless to say, he doesn't take the news well. Good thing Hawke is there to help!</p><p>Continues the story and relationship established in "Picked-Up Pieces," "Stranger Places," "Christmas in Kirkwall," and "Chiaroscuro."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fenris/Hawke (Dragon Age), Fenris/Male Hawke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The White Hart - Dragon Age Series [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1462372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One for the Books</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just another mindless erotic Fenris and Hawke vignette, since there clearly aren’t enough of them out there already! Also, for now, I’ve written and posted this story as a one-off in the White Hart series (Part V). But who knows, maybe I’ll turn it into a multi-chapter mystery-adventure later on. Feel free to let me know what you think. - Nas</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>One for the Books</b>
</p><p>Fenris was scowling, though that was hardly unusual for him. Hunched over the desk in the upstairs study, he had spent the last several hours poring over a stack of letters recently delivered by Varric’s personal courier. They weren’t addressed to him specifically, but rather appeared to have been intercepted as correspondence between a group of slave traders in the south of Tevinter and a broker currently taking up residence somewhere in Kirkwall. As such, Varric had (correctly) assumed that the information contained within would be of special interest to the elf and that, with a bit of time and investigation, the scoundrel could be rooted out. As Viscount, it was completely within Varric’s purview to have such atrocities purged from the city and, naturally, who better to do so than his trusted friends, Hawke and Fenris.</p><p>“Hey, Fen. I just came up to tell you…”</p><p>Liam Hawke leaned against the door jam and tried not to smile as the elf thumbed through the pages; his mouth soundlessly moving around the written words as he read through the parts he could best understand. Part of the problem was that even the lower classes of Tevinter merchants tended to have something of a complicated vocabulary and used quite a bit of flowery language, esoteric jargon, and obscure phrases whenever they were talking about slaves. Especially, as Hawke had already deduced, Elvhen Serenic slaves. Why else would Varric have sent them all of this? The mage didn’t have to see his lover’s deeply furrowed brow or the tightness in his shoulders to know what he was reading about.</p><p>“<i>As you mentioned during our last meeting,</i>” Began one paragraph. “<i>I have taken to heart your concerns about the entanglements of the unwitting but I can assure you that most of them will remain oblivious should the worst come to pass. What matters is that there will only be greater discord among our buyers should we be unable to provide suitably healthy stock. By this, of course, I mean those of the requested persuasion. Unfortunately, rumor-mongering and distrust continue to proliferate. As such, I am now seeking out potential new blood among the Alienages. Recent information from my contacts in the city indicate that there may be a small handful of ashvani hiding in Kirkwall. Discovering the truth of this is paramount! If it can be confirmed, it will undoubtedly be far more profitable in the long run than another attempt on the scattered and troublesome Elusivir.</i>”</p><p>As Hawke watched in calm silence, Fenris worked out the longer words by breaking them down into pieces of sounds, just as the mage had taught him. Then stringing them together until the syllables formed some part of recognizable talk he already knew. But when he encountered the sixth line of flowing cursive, he was suddenly at a loss. </p><p>“Pro…pra…pro... leef…” The sheaves of paper dropped from the elf’s hands and drifted down to the desk as his fingers dug into his hair and he sighed deeply. Hawke uncrossed his arms and quietly approached, laying his hand onto Fenris’ shoulder as he leaned over the offending sentences.</p><p>“Yeah, that looks like a tricky one.” He said. </p><p>“It’s the…it’s the…smaller words in it.” Fenris huffed, more frustrated with himself than with anything else. “Life. Rate. But it’s not any of that. I mean, that’s not the whole word. It’s just all I can see.”</p><p>“Do you want some help?”</p><p>He sighed dejectedly. “Yes, please.”</p><p>“So, it’s ‘proliferate.’ As in, meaning something that’s increasing quickly.”</p><p>Fenris made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a whistle, scratching at the lyrium lines on his chin thoughtfully. Hawke, however, couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and run his hands through the elf’s snowy locks of hair as they tickled at his forehead and the nape of his neck.</p><p>“So,” Hawke started in conversationally. “I spoke with the courier earlier. Varric thinks he’s uncovered another Serenic route, has he? Any merit to it?”</p><p>“I think so.” Fenris answered. “Not active harvest, though. Well, not yet anyway. Some anonymous reports started coming out of Lowtown a few weeks ago and, from what I gather in these letters, there’s an active hunt out for <i>ashvani</i> who may or may not be living near the Foundry.”</p><p>“Alienage Elves?” Hawke tilted his head, kneading his hand into the tension in his lover’s neck.</p><p>“Easier than tracking Mariner’s people, since no one has seen or heard from any of the Caravans in, what, at least a year and a half now. And less likely they’ll be missed if they did try to steal anyone and enslave them. This trade broker, Galliard Hewe I think his name is; he’s the one organizing everything. Looking for traders and lining up buyers. I suppose we’ll have to find him.” Fenris paused and worked his jaw irritably. “It never ends, does it?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Fen.”</p><p>The elf stopped, finally taking notice of the soft strokes of Hawke’s hand on his neck, and before the mage could open his mouth to say anything else, Fenris let out a sound that was caught within a sigh, a whimper, and a moan. It was slightly high-pitched and caused the mage’s body to tighten just by hearing it, as was pretty much always the case. But in a matter of moments, Fenris had gone completely silent and the tension in the room became so thick that he thought that he could practically see it. Instead of continuing the discussion, Hawke leaned down and laid a gentle kiss onto his lover’s collar. Clearly, he was upset and in need of soothing.</p><p>Fenris shifted restlessly and pushed the papers out of the way, taking pauses in between breaths to let out that wonderful sound that he had made before. Over the past couple of years, it was an indication that Hawke had learned to read exceptionally well. Fenris still had never developed much of a habit of speaking to his desires but <i>was</i> rather inclined to show them. Often without much warning. His hips moved, his body twisted, and his shirt came off. Quite abruptly in fact; a quick flourish and it fell from his shoulders and crumpled to the floor. Patterned hands came up to tangle into the mage’s fingers, running both of their palms across his chest in precisely the way he wanted to be touched at that moment. He then turned and dipped his head back to solicit a ready kiss from Hawke, who was all too happy to oblige him.</p><p>Right then, Hawke wanted nothing more than to pick Fenris straight up out the chair, to throw him down on the bed at the end of the hall, and make him scream. Yet, it was as if the mage was rooted on the spot, transfixed by the elf’s sensual demands. He’d taken the mage’s hands again and begun to move them; back down his body to slide over his thighs, then to his front. Fingers reveled against his skin, tracing the filigree whorls on his abdomen and following them to the waistband of his leggings. Brushing against the small dots just beneath his navel in a tormenting caress.</p><p>The mage followed those fingers as if his life depended on it, his breath coming out in short bursts of air as he felt his normally comfortable house-pants becoming painfully tight. The hand once more started to move, Hawke watching all the while as they played upon the braided laces for a few moments, the movements causing them to loosen and the soft, leather, breeches to sag around Fenris’ hips.</p><p>Hawke forced himself to swallow, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth, almost choking him when one of the elf’s thumbs hooked into the hem of his leggings and gave a tug downward. Fenris wasn’t messing around. He was pent-up and aggravated, which meant that he had a fair amount of nervous energy to work through. He’d been concentrating and struggling with reading for hours, which meant that he was likely eager for a distraction and probably a little release. And he was angry and sullen at the possible return of one of the things in this life that he hated the most, which meant that he was already heated, impassioned, and incensed. Taking it all out on Hawke was just par for the course now.</p><p>It was obvious to the mage what he should do next. As if in coordinated dance, Fenris stood up and swept the remaining writing materials and books sideways off of the desk and onto the floor while Hawke knocked the chair out of the way and pressed the elf forward until he was bent over the sturdy wood surface and resting on his forearms. And just as soon as Fenris had been so positioned, the mage set about to strip the elf of his leggings and lavish kisses all along his spine. </p><p>With a groan, Hawke laid his own body down onto his lover’s as he pulled his hips back to rut against him. Honestly, he loved it when Fenris was like this. Fast, riled up, a little messy perhaps, but completely shameless. He wanted what he wanted and wasn’t about to let decorum or small-talk get in the way. The mage even chuckled lightly as the elf suddenly reached back and grabbed the collar of his black silk shirt, and then used the added leverage to press their bodies tightly against each other. Fenris then turned his head to let their breaths mingle, tasting his human mate on his lips before rolling his body beneath him. </p><p>Strands of white hair were grabbed and Fenris’ head yanked back, completely exposing his neck to the mage’s lips, teeth, and tongue. He sucked, licked, and when that didn’t seem like enough, he began to bite.  </p><p>Fenris felt his eyes loll back in his head as a strangled groan escaped his parted lips. He knew he was being marked; the harshness of his lover’s mouth against his skin stung so deliciously that he thought, just for a moment, he would go mad if Hawke didn’t give him his release soon. Those long, nimble, fingers scraped nails down his chest, soon to be followed by the sharp sting of scratches on the raised edges of tattoos. Hands skirted down his ribs just as lightly chapped lips found that place beneath his right ear again and nibbled. Fenris hissed and arched. It was good, but he was in no mood for teasing.</p><p>“Hawke.” He reprimanded. “Enough.” </p><p>But to the mage, it was poetry. Short, brusque, un-melodic, poetry; that combined argument and rebuke with shattered pride and begging undulations. Hawke’s left hand worked completely independently from his right, trailing his fingertips down the elf’s abdomen before wrapping his fingers around his lover’s hardened member. He ground his palm against the head, fingers curling around to trace things lower. Fenris didn’t actually like the chafing sensation of hard strokes but was weak to a lighter, more practiced, touch. This, Hawke provided, and was rewarded with a sighing moan as he quickly called upon some ready magic to wet his opposite hand.</p><p>No matter how many times they had done this, the mage marveled at how special and remarkable it always felt to be with Fenris like this. Yet it also felt completely normal, natural; if never routine. They had become old lovers, in a sense, in the years that had passed since the Nightmare of the Fade. They hardly ever even had to say anything to one another to initiate their much-needed intimacy. A look, a held breath, a gesture, it could be subtle or obvious; and almost immediately they would come together and begin the familiar steps to arousal, connection, and ecstasy. Usually in the safety and privacy of their home in Hightown, of course, but not always. As was the case on one notable but tacitly unspoken-of occasion in the backroom of Olaf’s Armory.</p><p>Hawke bent his head again, inhaling the musky sent of sweat, sex, and lyrium on Fenris’ skin as the elf pointedly held still for him. But the mage continued to palm him as he buried his face into the junction of Fenris’ shoulder to continue licking and biting him. Irritably, the elf threw back his head and yelled, tense movements shuddering through his hips as he tried not to thrust.</p><p>“Don’t come yet,” Hawke growled, punctuating his words with a spell-slickened hand working to stretch and ease his lover.</p><p>“Then don’t make me wait.” Came the terse reply.</p><p>To Fenris’ surprise, both of the mage’s hands suddenly left him but he relaxed as soon as he heard the aggravated rustle of clothing and a few muddled curses. He even made to raise his hips slightly and spread his thighs to give the mage easy access to his body. But what he wasn’t expecting was to have both of his arms seized and pulled around behind his back; his thin wrists pressed together before Hawke abruptly tied his hands and bound him with his own silk shirt.</p><p>Fenris didn’t cry out and he was not frightened by the mage’s actions, but he did find the speed with which it all came about a little unsettling. He was starting to think Hawke had come up to the study with just this in mind and that was unusual for the mage. Since settling back down in the mansion in Kirkwall, they almost always made love in bed; the mage insisted on it for some reason. Except…well…for that one time… </p><p>Hawke leaned over him, panting into the point of his ear. “I’m ready for you. Are you ready for me?”</p><p>Fenris groaned, almost snarling impatiently. “Yes.” he gasped out, his bound hands clutching at the swath of fabric that held him. </p><p>Wasting no more time, the mage gripped the elf’s slender hip in one hand so that he might take himself in the other, carefully positioning himself just outside of his lover’s entrance. As soon as the elf felt him there, he jerked his hips and shoved backwards, complete impaling himself on the other’s length. </p><p>Hawke managed not to shout but even tied up, Fenris was in almost complete control of their coupling. So much so, the mage had to immediately grapple onto the elf’s backside to keep him from moving, otherwise he had no doubt that his fierce lover would take them both to a quick and sloppy end. Fully standing up to try and regain some of his lost wits, Hawke took a moment to just feel the tight hold that contained him. He also had maintained a firm grip on Fenris’ backside, which meant that he got a view of himself sheathed completely within his body. It had him momentarily transfixed and without even thinking he parted the soft flesh more, moving carefully in and out, thrusting his hips and watching his own length sliding into the other. Fenris’ inner walls gripped his rigid erection so tightly it was almost too much to be able to fully thrust. Unfortunately, however, the slow pace that he needed to keep so that he could watch them move together wasn’t enough, so Hawke forced his eyes shut and willed his strength to the forefront.</p><p>Fenris whimpered, biting his bottom lip as the mage began to pound him, each thrust slouched and angled to perfectly stimulate the sensitive places inside of him. The added agony of feeling like he was getting ripped in two only added to the pleasure of the human inside of him and Fenris knew that if his partner even brushed against his own weeping length he would explode. Yet it seemed as if Hawke knew this; his hands moving instead to either steady the elf’s body against the furniture or slip along his back as he was pushed upwards.</p><p>Then, the mage was hunched over him, placing his hand on the desk just above the elf’s shoulder to hold his weight up. The new position caused Hawke to have more leverage to move within him, and he did so even harder and faster than he had before; his painfully hard cock in constant contact with that spot that drove Fenris absolutely wild. As soon as the mage then let go of his reservations and took him, the screaming started and Fenris didn’t know if it was his or Hawke’s, but if there was anyone else in the household right now, they would certainly be appraised of all that was going on in the library. </p><p>Fenris’ voice became hoarse and he reared back; delighted to, at last, be in that blissful, foggy, state that was the high of sex with Liam Hawke. He held on there for several minutes as his lover mercilessly fucked him, floating in a state of euphoria until the ache of impending orgasm caused his lip to curl and his jaw to set.</p><p>“I – I can’t…” Hawke stuttered. “Fuck, Fenris. Come for me.” As if to emphasize his desperation, the mage reached around and gripped his lover again, his callused fingers moving along Fenris’ length in a persistent but brisk stroke. The elf was all too happy to comply though and didn’t resist the sudden wave of pleasure that crashed over him as he came immediately after. With a contented noise, Fenris gave himself over to his lover’s ministrations, pouring out his grievances, and his seed, onto the smooth flat of the study desk.</p><p>Hawke groaned as Fenris’ body clamped around him, and he thrust back in for more, hitting those spots again and causing the elf to moan incoherently through his release; muscles trembling as he rode out the contractions wracking his body. His goal accomplished, the mage suddenly thrust all the harder, the tautness around him tighter than when they’d begun but Fenris otherwise compliant and satisfied. They were perfect like this. <i>He</i> was perfect.</p><p>Seconds later, Hawke answered his lover’s joy with his own and finally released himself inside of his elf, forcing his hips to continue to move until he felt completely emptied; his seed coating Fenris’ inner walls and making him deliciously slick. The mage sobbed and collapsed as it all played out, not caring, yet still knowing that the elf didn’t mind his weight on him.</p><p>After a bit of respite for them both to catch their breaths, Hawke sluggishly reached between their bodies and untied Fenris’ arms, the limbs flopping free as his lover started to regain his bearings.</p><p>“So.” Fenris chuckled, still facedown with his cheek pressed into the cool wood. “Is that what you came up here to tell me?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Hawke murmured something else as he pulled back and landed heavily in the chair behind them, but Fenris didn’t quite hear him correctly. When he was carefully lifted from the desk and then brought down on his lover’s lap for a warm embrace, he tried again.</p><p>“You came up to tell me…this?”</p><p>Hawke laughed, wrapping his arms around his challenging lover and ensuring that he was holding him close. “No, Fen.” He grinned. “I came up here to wish you a happy anniversary.”</p><p>“A…. what?”</p><p>“Anniversary. Tonight. It will have been fifteen years to the day.”</p><p>“Day?” Fenris still seemed somewhat confused as to what they were talking about but Hawke only gently carded his fingers through the elf’s mangled hair as he parsed it out.</p><p>“Yeah, Fen. The day you first came to see me here in this house. The day you were mine. Well, so to speak, you know.”</p><p>“Oh.” He blinked, laying his head onto the mage’s shoulder. “Fifteen years? Really.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Wow. We’re old.”</p><p>For weeks afterwards, Orana and all the rest of the household staff wondered just what exactly Hawke had been laughing about so hard up in the library that evening.</p>
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